Funwall isn't fun, Super Wall isn't super, and neither are actually walls.
I'm beginning to intensely dislike Facebook.
***
I NEED SLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP
A
I'm beginning to intensely dislike Facebook.
***
I NEED SLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP
A
Saturday, December 29, 2007
I'm getting real tired of all this insomnia.
TIRED of all this INSOMNIA--get it?
I'm lying in bed at 3:00 in the morning and completely and utterly FAILING TO SLEEP, for the fourth night this week, and that joke actually seemed funny to me for a fleeting moment.
I NEED SLEEP.
A
I'm lying in bed at 3:00 in the morning and completely and utterly FAILING TO SLEEP, for the fourth night this week, and that joke actually seemed funny to me for a fleeting moment.
I NEED SLEEP.
A
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
HOLIDAY MEN bits
THE HOLIDAY MEN - bits
It's official--HOLIDAY MEN Season begins January 8 on the Chemistry Set. I'm pretty sure this is the first press release I've done where someone didn't stop me from having fun with it:
The Chemistry Set Online Comics Collective is pleased — well, not pleased, exactly, more like extremely reluctant but they’re doing it anyway, to announce the addition of Andrew Foley and Nick Johnson’s comic THE HOLIDAY MEN to the site’s regular features.
ChemSet co-founder Vito Delsante tried to explain the situation. “I don’t really know how it happened. I was just having a drink–a Pepsi, it wasn’t even liquor!–and the next thing I know I’m in a cheap hotel room with a dead hooker and there’s Andrew and Nick telling me they’ll take care of everything if I’ll just convince the other ChemSetters to let them join. No one’s found the body, yet, so,” said Delsante, stifling a shudder, “They’re in.”
THE HOLIDAY MEN chronicles the ongoing conflict between twisted versions of holiday icons and global economic superpower O’Mega-Mart. Described by Johnson as “a subtly nuanced, satirical critique of consumer culture,” and “a haphazard collection of ridiculously violent fight scenes” by Foley, THE HOLIDAY MEN is the first collaboration between the two talented, handsome, and modest creators.
An elderly curmudgeon since the age of 12, Foley graduated from the Alberta College of Art and Design’s drawing program, ran his own painting studio, and successfully evaded his creditors for several years in the ’90s, before deciding to focus his creative efforts on writing. In addition to the independently produced comic books PARTING WAYS and DONE TO DEATH, he’s been paid to write more than a dozen graphic novels that haven’t been published, and a couple that have.
In addition to being a founding member of Calgary’s Vicious Ambitious Studios, Nick Johnson’s hobbies include juggling, animal husbandry, and lingerie modeling. An artistic wunderkind who drew his first comic prior to leaving his mother’s womb, he started selling minicomics to earn beer money at the age of fourteen.
Writer and artist first met in 2000 when Foley attempted to dispose of the pizza box Johnson lived in at the time. Said Foley, “Looking at the frankly disturbing images Nick had scrawled on the side of the box, I realized I’d just stumbled onto an amazing creative talent and immediately planned to ruthlessly exploit him to the best of my ability. Now, with THE HOLIDAY MEN, I finally get the chance.”
In addition to giving Chemistry Set’s audience a rollicking good time, THE HOLIDAY MEN also offers invaluable services to its corporate clients. Foley claims that, “Sponsoring a HOLIDAY MEN panel is a great way to bring your message to ‘the kids.’ You give us money and we give you access to the free webcomic-reading demographic every company’s dying to reach. Being part of this project will lend your business instant ’street cred.’ Rather than seeing you as a dust-covered dinosaur on the brink of extinction, partnering with THE HOLIDAY MEN will convince young people you’re ‘radical to the extreme!’” Anyone interested in becoming a HOLIDAY MEN sponsor is encouraged to send an e-mail with “Sponsorship” in the Subject Header to OMegaMart@Gmail.com.
THE HOLIDAY MEN’s first episode, “The Massacre Memorial Day Sale Massacre”, will appear in serialized installments every Tuesday on chemsetcomics.com, starting January 8. “We’ve still got good stuff like Dwight McPherson’s SURREAL ADVENTURES OF EDGAR ALLAN POO and Andrew Drilon’s KARE-KARE KOMIKS appearing on other days,” said Delsante, trying to reassure himself as much as anyone else.
The Chemistry Set is a destination for webcomics in a variety of styles from a variety of up & coming and established talent. Founded in 2006, The Chemistry Set’s membership boasts three Xeric Award winners and a combined bibliography including work for Marvel Comics, DC Comics, Random House, Image Comics, SLG Publishing, Markosia and many others. Visit The Chemistry Set at www.chemsetcomics.com
***
"Robert" commented on O'Mega-Mart's Holiday message posted on the Set, taking offence that O-Mart had failed to mention Christmas. I wrote OMegaMart@Gmail.com and got the following in reply:
Dear O’Mega-Mart Customer,
Thank you for contacting O’Mega-Mart’s Customer Relations Department. While we don’t want to encourage such behavior, we appreciate you taking the time to have thoughts of your own, and even for sharing them with us.
O’Mega-Mart would like to apologize for offending you by refraining to use “Christmas” in our annual Holiday Greeting. As you are likely aware, the O’Mega family are strong believers in the Christian faith—their luxury underground bunker on the O’Mega Estate has a fully-stocked 200 seat chapel ready to go in the unlikely event that they are not swept up with the rest of the righteous during the Rapture. Hopefully knowing this will help you appreciate that the O’Mega Family shares your indignation with its employees’ failure to highlight the celebration of the birth of Our Lord Jesus Christ in an appropriate manner.
In defense of the employees in question, prior to their termination, numerous studies indicated that a substantial portion of O’Mega-Mart’s customer base did not respond favorably to religion-specific holiday messages (unless those messages were specific to their religion.) A choice had to be made between the O’Megas’ deeply-held religious convictions and the desire to profit from people who are doomed to an eternity in the Lake of Fire. Ultimately, we had to do what was right by our shareholders; hence the generic holiday message. Only time and Our Lord Jesus Christ will tell us whether we chose correctly.
As you clearly have an interest in O’Mega-Mart-related affairs, we have taken the liberty of adding your e-mail address to our O’Mega-Mart Customer Update mailing list. If you don’t wish to receive alerts regarding the latest bargains available at your local O’Mega-Mart, please go to chemsetcomics.com on January 8 and follow the instructions there to remove your address from our list, or send an e-mail to this address with the “I don’t want your XXXXing Spam” in the subject header.
Yours truly,
The O’Mega-Mart Customer Relations Dep’t.
_____________________________________________
O’Mega-Mart: Serving all your consumer needs. Or else.
It's official--HOLIDAY MEN Season begins January 8 on the Chemistry Set. I'm pretty sure this is the first press release I've done where someone didn't stop me from having fun with it:
The Chemistry Set Online Comics Collective is pleased — well, not pleased, exactly, more like extremely reluctant but they’re doing it anyway, to announce the addition of Andrew Foley and Nick Johnson’s comic THE HOLIDAY MEN to the site’s regular features.
ChemSet co-founder Vito Delsante tried to explain the situation. “I don’t really know how it happened. I was just having a drink–a Pepsi, it wasn’t even liquor!–and the next thing I know I’m in a cheap hotel room with a dead hooker and there’s Andrew and Nick telling me they’ll take care of everything if I’ll just convince the other ChemSetters to let them join. No one’s found the body, yet, so,” said Delsante, stifling a shudder, “They’re in.”
THE HOLIDAY MEN chronicles the ongoing conflict between twisted versions of holiday icons and global economic superpower O’Mega-Mart. Described by Johnson as “a subtly nuanced, satirical critique of consumer culture,” and “a haphazard collection of ridiculously violent fight scenes” by Foley, THE HOLIDAY MEN is the first collaboration between the two talented, handsome, and modest creators.
An elderly curmudgeon since the age of 12, Foley graduated from the Alberta College of Art and Design’s drawing program, ran his own painting studio, and successfully evaded his creditors for several years in the ’90s, before deciding to focus his creative efforts on writing. In addition to the independently produced comic books PARTING WAYS and DONE TO DEATH, he’s been paid to write more than a dozen graphic novels that haven’t been published, and a couple that have.
In addition to being a founding member of Calgary’s Vicious Ambitious Studios, Nick Johnson’s hobbies include juggling, animal husbandry, and lingerie modeling. An artistic wunderkind who drew his first comic prior to leaving his mother’s womb, he started selling minicomics to earn beer money at the age of fourteen.
Writer and artist first met in 2000 when Foley attempted to dispose of the pizza box Johnson lived in at the time. Said Foley, “Looking at the frankly disturbing images Nick had scrawled on the side of the box, I realized I’d just stumbled onto an amazing creative talent and immediately planned to ruthlessly exploit him to the best of my ability. Now, with THE HOLIDAY MEN, I finally get the chance.”
In addition to giving Chemistry Set’s audience a rollicking good time, THE HOLIDAY MEN also offers invaluable services to its corporate clients. Foley claims that, “Sponsoring a HOLIDAY MEN panel is a great way to bring your message to ‘the kids.’ You give us money and we give you access to the free webcomic-reading demographic every company’s dying to reach. Being part of this project will lend your business instant ’street cred.’ Rather than seeing you as a dust-covered dinosaur on the brink of extinction, partnering with THE HOLIDAY MEN will convince young people you’re ‘radical to the extreme!’” Anyone interested in becoming a HOLIDAY MEN sponsor is encouraged to send an e-mail with “Sponsorship” in the Subject Header to OMegaMart@Gmail.com.
THE HOLIDAY MEN’s first episode, “The Massacre Memorial Day Sale Massacre”, will appear in serialized installments every Tuesday on chemsetcomics.com, starting January 8. “We’ve still got good stuff like Dwight McPherson’s SURREAL ADVENTURES OF EDGAR ALLAN POO and Andrew Drilon’s KARE-KARE KOMIKS appearing on other days,” said Delsante, trying to reassure himself as much as anyone else.
The Chemistry Set is a destination for webcomics in a variety of styles from a variety of up & coming and established talent. Founded in 2006, The Chemistry Set’s membership boasts three Xeric Award winners and a combined bibliography including work for Marvel Comics, DC Comics, Random House, Image Comics, SLG Publishing, Markosia and many others. Visit The Chemistry Set at www.chemsetcomics.com
***
"Robert" commented on O'Mega-Mart's Holiday message posted on the Set, taking offence that O-Mart had failed to mention Christmas. I wrote OMegaMart@Gmail.com and got the following in reply:
Dear O’Mega-Mart Customer,
Thank you for contacting O’Mega-Mart’s Customer Relations Department. While we don’t want to encourage such behavior, we appreciate you taking the time to have thoughts of your own, and even for sharing them with us.
O’Mega-Mart would like to apologize for offending you by refraining to use “Christmas” in our annual Holiday Greeting. As you are likely aware, the O’Mega family are strong believers in the Christian faith—their luxury underground bunker on the O’Mega Estate has a fully-stocked 200 seat chapel ready to go in the unlikely event that they are not swept up with the rest of the righteous during the Rapture. Hopefully knowing this will help you appreciate that the O’Mega Family shares your indignation with its employees’ failure to highlight the celebration of the birth of Our Lord Jesus Christ in an appropriate manner.
In defense of the employees in question, prior to their termination, numerous studies indicated that a substantial portion of O’Mega-Mart’s customer base did not respond favorably to religion-specific holiday messages (unless those messages were specific to their religion.) A choice had to be made between the O’Megas’ deeply-held religious convictions and the desire to profit from people who are doomed to an eternity in the Lake of Fire. Ultimately, we had to do what was right by our shareholders; hence the generic holiday message. Only time and Our Lord Jesus Christ will tell us whether we chose correctly.
As you clearly have an interest in O’Mega-Mart-related affairs, we have taken the liberty of adding your e-mail address to our O’Mega-Mart Customer Update mailing list. If you don’t wish to receive alerts regarding the latest bargains available at your local O’Mega-Mart, please go to chemsetcomics.com on January 8 and follow the instructions there to remove your address from our list, or send an e-mail to this address with the “I don’t want your XXXXing Spam” in the subject header.
Yours truly,
The O’Mega-Mart Customer Relations Dep’t.
________________________________________
O’Mega-Mart: Serving all your consumer needs. Or else.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Saturday, December 22, 2007
My Alter Ego
Over at Zeros 2 Heroes, a site I seem to have developed an unhealthy obsession with, someone asked people to describe the superpowered alter egos they would have if they had superpowered alter egos, in terms of Hero/Villain?, Name, Costume, Origin, and Quirks and facts.
I don't think what I provided was quite what they had in mind, but it amused me, so here it is:
Hero/villain: Probably a villain, but he wouldn't do anything actually criminal. He'd just not be the kind of person a superhero would want to hang around with.
Name: The Bummer.
Costume: A large, food-stained nightshirt with pajama pants and slippers, holes with socks around them. And a domino mask.
Origin: One day Andrew realized it wasn't just his generally bleak outlook that brought other people down, but his mere presence. Maybe it was pheremones, maybe it was the withering sarcasm, maybe it was the general ennui he carried with him every waking moment, but no optimism could be exposed to him for more than a couple minutes before withering and dying. Misery Loves Company, so The Bummer sallied forth from his Hidden Lair (carefully disguised as his bedroom) and began to spread dark thoughts and despair wherever he went.
Quirks and facts: Ironically, The Bummer actually has a superhuman sense of humour. He can find something to laugh at in almost every situation, no matter how inappropriate. His funeral will be the second most entertaining event he's ever coordinated.
A
O'Mega-Mart: Serving all your consumer needs. Or else.
OMegaMart@Gmail.com
I don't think what I provided was quite what they had in mind, but it amused me, so here it is:
Hero/villain: Probably a villain, but he wouldn't do anything actually criminal. He'd just not be the kind of person a superhero would want to hang around with.
Name: The Bummer.
Costume: A large, food-stained nightshirt with pajama pants and slippers, holes with socks around them. And a domino mask.
Origin: One day Andrew realized it wasn't just his generally bleak outlook that brought other people down, but his mere presence. Maybe it was pheremones, maybe it was the withering sarcasm, maybe it was the general ennui he carried with him every waking moment, but no optimism could be exposed to him for more than a couple minutes before withering and dying. Misery Loves Company, so The Bummer sallied forth from his Hidden Lair (carefully disguised as his bedroom) and began to spread dark thoughts and despair wherever he went.
Quirks and facts: Ironically, The Bummer actually has a superhuman sense of humour. He can find something to laugh at in almost every situation, no matter how inappropriate. His funeral will be the second most entertaining event he's ever coordinated.
A
O'Mega-Mart: Serving all your consumer needs. Or else.
OMegaMart@Gmail.com
Friday, December 21, 2007
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
The Bad Guys
I'm not entirely sure where my path to writing comics started, but I know it wound through roleplaying game territory for a good number of years. Running campaigns was where I started getting a sense of what made for a good story. It was also where I started to realize that many players weren't as concerned about telling a good story as I was, and given half a chance, would do exactly the exact opposite of what the story, and even the basic natures of the characters they were playing, called for. Frustrated that the stories I wanted to tell weren't being told, I started writing them for different media. The moment I decided to focus on writing as a prospective career was the same second I started sucking as a GM.
One CHAMPIONS campaign I played in (rather than ran), the player characters, through a mixture of our own ill-thought out actions and dealing with a GM and villains who were smarter than we were, began being perceived by the public (in the game) as villains. (Actually, we may have been perceived as villains by the real public, too--I think that was the campaign when the cops knocked on the door because someone had heard one of us screaming we were going to kill someone else) (We always leaned towards the LARPS end of the gaming, rather than the dice-rolling.)
As I said, this was partly our fault. A couple of us, including myself, were playing characters who didn't care what people thought of them. A couple others weren't playing their characters that well and some NPCs ended up dying. In most cases, they deserved it, but still, it's one thing for Wolverine to kill someone, and another altogether for Jubilee to rip someone's arms off.
One session we had a guest player show up, a friend of the GM. And his character was Joe Superhero, very straightlaced. The first thing he heard when he encountered our characters was me saying to the group, "Someone ratted us out." The first thing he saw was the guy who'd publicly torn a supervillain (who wasn't necessarily identified as a supervillain) into little bits and pieces.
So the new guy decided we were villains and the session basically devolved into a huge fight between player characters who thought of themselves as heroes, and another player character who looked at us as villains.
This was a perfectly reasonable development, and led to some nice roleplaying, but it really upset one of the players, the guy who'd ripped the supervillain apart. He didn't understand why the new guy was treating us a villains. "Why's he being like this?" he said. "We're supposed to be the good guys!"
I thought about this for a moment, and then, in character, replied, "Then we should probably act more like the good guys."
I suspect someone figuring that out was why the GM put us in that situation with his buddy in the first place--I know he wasn't terribly happy with the "heroism" of the player characters.
All of this came back to me when I checked out the official website of the AMPTP (the coalition of Big Media who drove the Writers Guild to strike), which is trying to present the group as the good guys while acting like...something else.
It's not nearly as funny as AMPTP.com (which the AMPTP managed to let fall into the hands of a group of very funny, if bitter, writers.)
***
STRIKE A POST
Posting will be light over the next couple weeks. I'm in my annual Christmas Depression, and have other things I need to be doing, some of which I actually WANT to do.
So, to the three of you who still read this thing, have a Merry Christmas or Equivalent Holiday of Your Choice, a Happy New Year, and a reasonably pleasant rest of the week.
***
SWEENEY TODD
I don't really need to be able to hear things. I'm sure the other four senses will tide me over.
Very stylish film, though I can't make any sense of what they're thinking releasing it at Christmas. It's no Edward Scissorhands, and thank God for that.
I have no affinity for the musical genre. None whatsoever.
Still. I could've done worse things on the Wednesday night before Christmas, and all of them would've likely cost more than the free pass T and I got to the preview. So, no complaints. Other than the volume.
I am a delicate flower.
Foley
One CHAMPIONS campaign I played in (rather than ran), the player characters, through a mixture of our own ill-thought out actions and dealing with a GM and villains who were smarter than we were, began being perceived by the public (in the game) as villains. (Actually, we may have been perceived as villains by the real public, too--I think that was the campaign when the cops knocked on the door because someone had heard one of us screaming we were going to kill someone else) (We always leaned towards the LARPS end of the gaming, rather than the dice-rolling.)
As I said, this was partly our fault. A couple of us, including myself, were playing characters who didn't care what people thought of them. A couple others weren't playing their characters that well and some NPCs ended up dying. In most cases, they deserved it, but still, it's one thing for Wolverine to kill someone, and another altogether for Jubilee to rip someone's arms off.
One session we had a guest player show up, a friend of the GM. And his character was Joe Superhero, very straightlaced. The first thing he heard when he encountered our characters was me saying to the group, "Someone ratted us out." The first thing he saw was the guy who'd publicly torn a supervillain (who wasn't necessarily identified as a supervillain) into little bits and pieces.
So the new guy decided we were villains and the session basically devolved into a huge fight between player characters who thought of themselves as heroes, and another player character who looked at us as villains.
This was a perfectly reasonable development, and led to some nice roleplaying, but it really upset one of the players, the guy who'd ripped the supervillain apart. He didn't understand why the new guy was treating us a villains. "Why's he being like this?" he said. "We're supposed to be the good guys!"
I thought about this for a moment, and then, in character, replied, "Then we should probably act more like the good guys."
I suspect someone figuring that out was why the GM put us in that situation with his buddy in the first place--I know he wasn't terribly happy with the "heroism" of the player characters.
All of this came back to me when I checked out the official website of the AMPTP (the coalition of Big Media who drove the Writers Guild to strike), which is trying to present the group as the good guys while acting like...something else.
It's not nearly as funny as AMPTP.com (which the AMPTP managed to let fall into the hands of a group of very funny, if bitter, writers.)
***
STRIKE A POST
Posting will be light over the next couple weeks. I'm in my annual Christmas Depression, and have other things I need to be doing, some of which I actually WANT to do.
So, to the three of you who still read this thing, have a Merry Christmas or Equivalent Holiday of Your Choice, a Happy New Year, and a reasonably pleasant rest of the week.
***
SWEENEY TODD
I don't really need to be able to hear things. I'm sure the other four senses will tide me over.
Very stylish film, though I can't make any sense of what they're thinking releasing it at Christmas. It's no Edward Scissorhands, and thank God for that.
I have no affinity for the musical genre. None whatsoever.
Still. I could've done worse things on the Wednesday night before Christmas, and all of them would've likely cost more than the free pass T and I got to the preview. So, no complaints. Other than the volume.
I am a delicate flower.
Foley
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
More Rambling.
DOMESTIC BLISS, FOLEY STYLE
Tiina: Do you love me?
Andrew: Of course I do.
T: Really? You aren't just saying that because I'll beat you up if you don't, are you?
T and I have conversations like this ALL THE TIME.
***
BEST-LAID PLANS
A day had passed and the traps I'd laid in my office and the bathroom had caught no poop machines. My plan clearly wasn't working. My first idea: continue the failed plan, only commit more resources to it. A Trap Surge would surely solve the problem.
My second solution, seeing as new mouse poop had materialized on my desk and there was no place to buy traps at midnight, at least not that I was willing to venture out into the cold to go to, was to slather more peanut butter on the existing traps. It wasn't much of a plan, but it'd make me feel better, like I was being proactive in the face of difficulties.
Fifteen minutes later, I wandered into my office, and discovered a dead mouse in the trap next to my desk. And I've got to say, my reaction wasn't what I'd expected. It's one thing to pick up a mouse carcas that Jewel (who steadfastly refuses to lift a paw to fend off the current invasion of vermin) has gotten tired of playing with. It's another thing altogether to realize that this animal died because you arranged to kill it.
Mildly depressed, I disposed of the body outside and came back upstairs. Started writing a blog post, because that's what I do when I'm down. Got about three words into it when there was an audible SNAP! from the bathroom...
...accompanied by a pathetic squealing. The trap had slammed down on the mouse's body, rather than its neck--it was pinned, terrified, and squee-squee-squealing in pain. And I thought finding a dead mouse was as bad as my night would get...y'know, I could've gone my entire life without knowing what colour the contents of a mouse skull are.
I disposed of the second mouse, sprayed the traps down with bleach. Waited a couple days, debating whether the effect the traps working had on my emotional well-being was worth setting them again.
Found another turd on my desk later that night. Now that I know what they look like, I'm seeing them everywhere (even places they probably aren't--the animals are always dragging stuff in from outside--that speck could be a mouse dropping, or it could just be some random dirt Data tracked in...). I took a deep breath, smeared the pedals with more peanut butter, and set the traps again.
That was a couple nights ago. The traps haven't caught any more mice. Not sure why--maybe they can smell the bleach, maybe they aren't dumb enough to venture into those places other mice went and never returned from. I think I'm actually happier this way--I get the satisfaction of feeling like I'm doing something about the problem, but don't have to deal with the guilt I feel for snuffing out the lives of what are, in the grand scheme of things, fairly inoffensive creatures.
And I'll continue to be happier with this situation, right up until I find new poop on my desk.
***
BETWEEN THE CRACKS
The Chemistry Set is the subject of the Second Interstitial Arts Foundation (Online) Salon. There are only nine words in the preceding sentence that I'm sure I understand. There hasn't been a lot of posting yet (the salon's going till the fifteenth), at least some of what has been posted has flown so far over my head it didn't even part my hair, but it's an interesting conversation, nonetheless, esp. if you've got an interest in disparate arts, media, and genres. And semantics, which seem to have become terribly important to me, somewhere along the line.
Foley
Tiina: Do you love me?
Andrew: Of course I do.
T: Really? You aren't just saying that because I'll beat you up if you don't, are you?
T and I have conversations like this ALL THE TIME.
***
BEST-LAID PLANS
A day had passed and the traps I'd laid in my office and the bathroom had caught no poop machines. My plan clearly wasn't working. My first idea: continue the failed plan, only commit more resources to it. A Trap Surge would surely solve the problem.
My second solution, seeing as new mouse poop had materialized on my desk and there was no place to buy traps at midnight, at least not that I was willing to venture out into the cold to go to, was to slather more peanut butter on the existing traps. It wasn't much of a plan, but it'd make me feel better, like I was being proactive in the face of difficulties.
Fifteen minutes later, I wandered into my office, and discovered a dead mouse in the trap next to my desk. And I've got to say, my reaction wasn't what I'd expected. It's one thing to pick up a mouse carcas that Jewel (who steadfastly refuses to lift a paw to fend off the current invasion of vermin) has gotten tired of playing with. It's another thing altogether to realize that this animal died because you arranged to kill it.
Mildly depressed, I disposed of the body outside and came back upstairs. Started writing a blog post, because that's what I do when I'm down. Got about three words into it when there was an audible SNAP! from the bathroom...
...accompanied by a pathetic squealing. The trap had slammed down on the mouse's body, rather than its neck--it was pinned, terrified, and squee-squee-squealing in pain. And I thought finding a dead mouse was as bad as my night would get...y'know, I could've gone my entire life without knowing what colour the contents of a mouse skull are.
I disposed of the second mouse, sprayed the traps down with bleach. Waited a couple days, debating whether the effect the traps working had on my emotional well-being was worth setting them again.
Found another turd on my desk later that night. Now that I know what they look like, I'm seeing them everywhere (even places they probably aren't--the animals are always dragging stuff in from outside--that speck could be a mouse dropping, or it could just be some random dirt Data tracked in...). I took a deep breath, smeared the pedals with more peanut butter, and set the traps again.
That was a couple nights ago. The traps haven't caught any more mice. Not sure why--maybe they can smell the bleach, maybe they aren't dumb enough to venture into those places other mice went and never returned from. I think I'm actually happier this way--I get the satisfaction of feeling like I'm doing something about the problem, but don't have to deal with the guilt I feel for snuffing out the lives of what are, in the grand scheme of things, fairly inoffensive creatures.
And I'll continue to be happier with this situation, right up until I find new poop on my desk.
***
BETWEEN THE CRACKS
The Chemistry Set is the subject of the Second Interstitial Arts Foundation (Online) Salon. There are only nine words in the preceding sentence that I'm sure I understand. There hasn't been a lot of posting yet (the salon's going till the fifteenth), at least some of what has been posted has flown so far over my head it didn't even part my hair, but it's an interesting conversation, nonetheless, esp. if you've got an interest in disparate arts, media, and genres. And semantics, which seem to have become terribly important to me, somewhere along the line.
Foley
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
MelanFoley Ramblydamblings
After two years not seeing the guy, I finally managed to get in to see the ear nose and throat specialist last Thursday. I could've gone a few months ago, but I wanted to see him when I was in maximum discomfort, sinus-wise, which meant postponing till the dead of winter.
Two days prior to the appointment I was in as much pain as I had been since the infection over the summer--I was almost certain it had returned. Spent a whole day waiting for something sticky, vile and yellow to drain down the back of my throat. Never happened.
Of course, when Thursday and my appointment rolled around, I awoke to the least headachy day I'd had since Hallowe'en. But the appointment was made, so in I went.
The device I call the Footcam (due to it feeling like someone is shoving a foot up your nose into your forehead) wasn't as uncomfortable as my previous visit. However, if there's ever a time NOT to sneeze, it's when someone's got a miniature camera shoved in behind your face, uncomfortably close to your brain. Word to the wise...
Apparently I've got some discharge in my right cheek sinus cavity. I'd have mentioned this sooner, but it took me three days to remember the proper term. I kept on wanting to call the discharge "emissions" even though nothing of note had actually emitted, at least not that I've noticed. Anyway, the ENT guy's scheduling me and my discharging sinuses for a CATscan, which I gather is one of the more detailed x-rays available. If that's right, I figure this should pretty much kill any viable sperm I had left after the myriad other x-rays I've had taken in the last ten years. On the upside, it's nice to have some independent confirmation that I'm actually feeling noticeably worse this winter than previous ones (which weren't exactly loads of fun themselves.)
***
WORDS FAIL ME. THEY MUST BE PUNISHED
Discharge is just the latest word I've lost, lately. It seems to be happening with greater, almosst worrying frequency. I lay in bed for two hours one night last week desperately trying to recall what Prozac is called.
***
WHO MANAGES THE MANAGERS?
Talked to Hollywood Manager for a solid hour on Monday. It's pretty clear nothing major is going to happen until the strike is resolved, but that doesn't mean nothing's happening. Just nothing that's going to help pay any bills any time soon. Which is frustrating, worrisome, and frustratingly worrisome. And typical.
Tomorrow I'll be bugging Publishing Manager about what he's done for me lately. THE SPOOKY KIDS has been rejected at four places now, but that still leaves an awful lot of publishers we're waiting to hear back from. He's supposed to be following up with editors this week. Hopefully there'll be some good news out of that, but I'll believe it when I hear it.
***
NO HOLIDAY
In the meantime, work on THE HOLIDAY MEN progresses, with artist Nick Johnson knocking it out of the park. Some sort of announcement should be made soon, hopefully prior to Christmas. Before it comes out, I want to make sure we've got enough in the can to maintain the schedule we promise.
***
DO THE WRITE THING
Speaking of The H-Men, I find myself on the horns of a dilemma. I've got an idea for something I want to do--am actually definitely going to do, provided Nick sticks around long enough. I'm just not sure when to do it. It's an idea that I find quite funny, which is why I'm going to do it. But it's also a double-edged sword, and both edges could well end up aimed squarely at my and Nick's throats. The idea alone is all but certain to offend someone; if it's executed right, it should offend almost EVERYone. And get us a lot of attention because of it.
Which isn't why I'm going to do it. If we did get attention (at least some of which would likely be in the form of death threats), that would just be a nice side effect of pursuing a particularly silly idea to its satisfyingly ridiculous conclusion. That said, after having PARTING WAYS and D2D go practically unnoticed, and C&A getting attention for things I had nothing to do with, it'd be nice to know someone out there is actually reading my stuff, even if they're only doing it to collect evidence they can present in their defence at the murder trial. As a result of my desperate need for attention, it's difficult for me to resist the temptation to do this particular story early on in the strip's life.
BUT.
This story is, in a lot of ways, the ultimate Holiday Men tale. It's the essence of what's going to make the standard H-Men episode, taken to the logical extreme. When this is done, there's really nowhere else for the Holidays to go, storywise. Nowhere but down, anyway.
In writing this, I realize this story will have to wait, possibly a long time (I've got a lot of ideas for H-Men stories, and more pop up all the time). When it gets done, there's only one other story that can happen after it, and it won't be as silly, pointed, or inflammmatory--it's just the story on which the series must end. This idea of mine will have to be the second-last H-Men episode, written after I've exhausted all the other entertaining but lesser (less funny, less offensive) variations on the H-Men's themes. The Story requires this trigger not be pulled before its time.
Sigh. I hate the Story, sometimes.
Foley
Two days prior to the appointment I was in as much pain as I had been since the infection over the summer--I was almost certain it had returned. Spent a whole day waiting for something sticky, vile and yellow to drain down the back of my throat. Never happened.
Of course, when Thursday and my appointment rolled around, I awoke to the least headachy day I'd had since Hallowe'en. But the appointment was made, so in I went.
The device I call the Footcam (due to it feeling like someone is shoving a foot up your nose into your forehead) wasn't as uncomfortable as my previous visit. However, if there's ever a time NOT to sneeze, it's when someone's got a miniature camera shoved in behind your face, uncomfortably close to your brain. Word to the wise...
Apparently I've got some discharge in my right cheek sinus cavity. I'd have mentioned this sooner, but it took me three days to remember the proper term. I kept on wanting to call the discharge "emissions" even though nothing of note had actually emitted, at least not that I've noticed. Anyway, the ENT guy's scheduling me and my discharging sinuses for a CATscan, which I gather is one of the more detailed x-rays available. If that's right, I figure this should pretty much kill any viable sperm I had left after the myriad other x-rays I've had taken in the last ten years. On the upside, it's nice to have some independent confirmation that I'm actually feeling noticeably worse this winter than previous ones (which weren't exactly loads of fun themselves.)
***
WORDS FAIL ME. THEY MUST BE PUNISHED
Discharge is just the latest word I've lost, lately. It seems to be happening with greater, almosst worrying frequency. I lay in bed for two hours one night last week desperately trying to recall what Prozac is called.
***
WHO MANAGES THE MANAGERS?
Talked to Hollywood Manager for a solid hour on Monday. It's pretty clear nothing major is going to happen until the strike is resolved, but that doesn't mean nothing's happening. Just nothing that's going to help pay any bills any time soon. Which is frustrating, worrisome, and frustratingly worrisome. And typical.
Tomorrow I'll be bugging Publishing Manager about what he's done for me lately. THE SPOOKY KIDS has been rejected at four places now, but that still leaves an awful lot of publishers we're waiting to hear back from. He's supposed to be following up with editors this week. Hopefully there'll be some good news out of that, but I'll believe it when I hear it.
***
NO HOLIDAY
In the meantime, work on THE HOLIDAY MEN progresses, with artist Nick Johnson knocking it out of the park. Some sort of announcement should be made soon, hopefully prior to Christmas. Before it comes out, I want to make sure we've got enough in the can to maintain the schedule we promise.
***
DO THE WRITE THING
Speaking of The H-Men, I find myself on the horns of a dilemma. I've got an idea for something I want to do--am actually definitely going to do, provided Nick sticks around long enough. I'm just not sure when to do it. It's an idea that I find quite funny, which is why I'm going to do it. But it's also a double-edged sword, and both edges could well end up aimed squarely at my and Nick's throats. The idea alone is all but certain to offend someone; if it's executed right, it should offend almost EVERYone. And get us a lot of attention because of it.
Which isn't why I'm going to do it. If we did get attention (at least some of which would likely be in the form of death threats), that would just be a nice side effect of pursuing a particularly silly idea to its satisfyingly ridiculous conclusion. That said, after having PARTING WAYS and D2D go practically unnoticed, and C&A getting attention for things I had nothing to do with, it'd be nice to know someone out there is actually reading my stuff, even if they're only doing it to collect evidence they can present in their defence at the murder trial. As a result of my desperate need for attention, it's difficult for me to resist the temptation to do this particular story early on in the strip's life.
BUT.
This story is, in a lot of ways, the ultimate Holiday Men tale. It's the essence of what's going to make the standard H-Men episode, taken to the logical extreme. When this is done, there's really nowhere else for the Holidays to go, storywise. Nowhere but down, anyway.
In writing this, I realize this story will have to wait, possibly a long time (I've got a lot of ideas for H-Men stories, and more pop up all the time). When it gets done, there's only one other story that can happen after it, and it won't be as silly, pointed, or inflammmatory--it's just the story on which the series must end. This idea of mine will have to be the second-last H-Men episode, written after I've exhausted all the other entertaining but lesser (less funny, less offensive) variations on the H-Men's themes. The Story requires this trigger not be pulled before its time.
Sigh. I hate the Story, sometimes.
Foley
Thursday, December 6, 2007
So that's the way you want to play it, huh?
Dear Mouse/Mice who've been lurking in the upstairs area of my house,
You creeped me out that one time by doing your pervy little peeping tom thing while I was on the toilet, but, you know, I could've let it slide. Really, I could. I was happy to let this go for as long as you could avoid the cats. And let's face it, given the stellar job annihilating your cute furry butts the cats AREN'T doing lately, that could've been a good long time, especially in mouse year.
What I'm trying to say is, it didn't have to come to this. I didn't sit down in my office planning to buy a bunch of traps which I'll smear with peanut butter and put in corners where the cats hopefully won't get at them (hardly likely, considering their ambition lately), which you'll come sniffing around and have your life come to an abrupt end. I'm a live and let live kind of guy, normally.
But dude(s).
You pooped on my desk. And for that you must pay.
What happens this weekend is on your head(s). And probably part of your spine(s).
Andrew
PS: Yes, I realize now you've probably been pooping on my desk for weeks. I'm not exactly an expert in vermin scat, you know (though apparently my wife is, as she's the one who pointed out what I thought were a couple loose grape seeds...weren't.) That's beside the point. I KNOW NOW. And my wrath shall fall upon you like a piece of metal snapping down in the dark, shattering your spine.
PPS: I EAT STUFF ON MY DESK. It's on plates, but still. Ew.
You creeped me out that one time by doing your pervy little peeping tom thing while I was on the toilet, but, you know, I could've let it slide. Really, I could. I was happy to let this go for as long as you could avoid the cats. And let's face it, given the stellar job annihilating your cute furry butts the cats AREN'T doing lately, that could've been a good long time, especially in mouse year.
What I'm trying to say is, it didn't have to come to this. I didn't sit down in my office planning to buy a bunch of traps which I'll smear with peanut butter and put in corners where the cats hopefully won't get at them (hardly likely, considering their ambition lately), which you'll come sniffing around and have your life come to an abrupt end. I'm a live and let live kind of guy, normally.
But dude(s).
You pooped on my desk. And for that you must pay.
What happens this weekend is on your head(s). And probably part of your spine(s).
Andrew
PS: Yes, I realize now you've probably been pooping on my desk for weeks. I'm not exactly an expert in vermin scat, you know (though apparently my wife is, as she's the one who pointed out what I thought were a couple loose grape seeds...weren't.) That's beside the point. I KNOW NOW. And my wrath shall fall upon you like a piece of metal snapping down in the dark, shattering your spine.
PPS: I EAT STUFF ON MY DESK. It's on plates, but still. Ew.
Monday, December 3, 2007
ALPHA MAIL
An example of Angry Andrew's thought process, from an e-mail I just sent over to a collaborator:
"To say I am Displeased with XXXXX at the moment doesn't really cover it. I'm on the edge of considering the possibility of maybe doing something rash."
OOoooOOOooo...I'm SCARY.
On other e-mail related news, I've started receiving messages from Grant Morrison DOOM PATROL characters. Here's an example of what one of them sent me:
"retain snare koinonia bluet tooth ehrlich twenty judson shell usable rook chang
prague plato lufthansa usable twenty snare repetitious
strident ghoul fractionate chang usable admix slovenia clean wit strident
rosenberg josephson ghoul"
I reread this particular passage several times while suffering a bout of insomnia in the wee hours this mornig. There was a brief period, between 3:50 and 3:54 AM where it actually made sense. Then God showed up, gave Data a key-shaped chicken bone and told me if I knew what was good for me I'd forget everything I 'd just read.
***
VICTORY IS THEIRS!
Man, I'm congratulating a lot of people lately, but what the heck, they deserve it and it's not like anyone actually reads this thing. First up, my buddy Scott O. Brown has won the first round of DC's Zuda Comics competition. Lettered by SOB, written by David Gallaher, and drawn by Steve Ellis, HIGH MOON is apparently a pretty good western werewolf webcomic that I guess I'll have to read now (my friend is the LETTERER on this one, OK? It's not like I didn't have his back when he was actually writing something {like Platinum Studios' ATLANTIS RISING, available online at DrunkDuck.com with the first issue currently on the shelves, for instance.}) (Did I mention SOB and I have gotten the rights to THREADS back? Coz we have. Which is cool.)
Also on the Andrew's e-Handshake List this morning is Dwight McPherson, Kevin Conley, and Worth Gowel, whose KID HOUDINI & THE SILVER DOLLAR MISFITS, currently being serialized at The Chemistry Set has found a publisher.
At this rate, I may have to get on-board this webcomics thing myself.
***
WORK IS FOR THOSE WHO DON'T HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO
Finally got the outline for MERLYN COMPANY in fighting shape, and I don't care how crappy you're feeling, 3,000 words shouldn't take more than a week to write. But it's done now and I can hopefully move on to other projects with a more reasonable chance of getting somewhere than a five volume trade paperback series with no artist attached.
The first three pages of the first HOLIDAY MEN episode are almost complete, and all I had to do to get them finished was ruin my marriage by constantly asking Tiina to make little, niggling changes. She says she doesn't mind, but I'm not sure I believe her. There were a few moments there when I wanted to punch me in the throat, I can't imagine her not feeling the same way...On the upside, the pages and lettering look amazing (in my humble opinion). I can't wait to inflic--sorry, I mean unveil this project to the world...
Another person who probably wanted to reach a few thousand kilometres across Canada and throttle me last week is John Keane, who had to deal with the same sort of nitpickery T did on the BadBoy proposal, which is now done and off to the people who can hopefully do something with it faster than we could on our own.
This week, I've absolutely got to get the SOULMAKER pitch polished for The Pack, and send The Future of Comics (I) Fiona Staples some feedback on the story for what may well be the first major comic work she writes as well as draws. Reading the story was more than a little depressing, as I quickly realized a) she doesn't really need me, in an capacity, and b) she's got more quirky, cool visual ideas in her pinky finger than I will ever have in my entire life. Why she hasn't been picked up by a major company already will always mystify me. (Well, not really, but the shortsightedness of NOT signing her up for something major baffles me.)
Also, a couple blog posts, including, when I'm able to think of it without bursting into tears, a description of my weekend journey through Hell (AKA The Shoe Company).
Good night.
I mean afternoon. Ehhhh....so it's going to be one of THOSE days...
Foley
"To say I am Displeased with XXXXX at the moment doesn't really cover it. I'm on the edge of considering the possibility of maybe doing something rash."
OOoooOOOooo...I'm SCARY.
On other e-mail related news, I've started receiving messages from Grant Morrison DOOM PATROL characters. Here's an example of what one of them sent me:
"retain snare koinonia bluet tooth ehrlich twenty judson shell usable rook chang
prague plato lufthansa usable twenty snare repetitious
strident ghoul fractionate chang usable admix slovenia clean wit strident
rosenberg josephson ghoul"
I reread this particular passage several times while suffering a bout of insomnia in the wee hours this mornig. There was a brief period, between 3:50 and 3:54 AM where it actually made sense. Then God showed up, gave Data a key-shaped chicken bone and told me if I knew what was good for me I'd forget everything I 'd just read.
***
VICTORY IS THEIRS!
Man, I'm congratulating a lot of people lately, but what the heck, they deserve it and it's not like anyone actually reads this thing. First up, my buddy Scott O. Brown has won the first round of DC's Zuda Comics competition. Lettered by SOB, written by David Gallaher, and drawn by Steve Ellis, HIGH MOON is apparently a pretty good western werewolf webcomic that I guess I'll have to read now (my friend is the LETTERER on this one, OK? It's not like I didn't have his back when he was actually writing something {like Platinum Studios' ATLANTIS RISING, available online at DrunkDuck.com with the first issue currently on the shelves, for instance.}) (Did I mention SOB and I have gotten the rights to THREADS back? Coz we have. Which is cool.)
Also on the Andrew's e-Handshake List this morning is Dwight McPherson, Kevin Conley, and Worth Gowel, whose KID HOUDINI & THE SILVER DOLLAR MISFITS, currently being serialized at The Chemistry Set has found a publisher.
At this rate, I may have to get on-board this webcomics thing myself.
***
WORK IS FOR THOSE WHO DON'T HAVE ANYTHING BETTER TO DO
Finally got the outline for MERLYN COMPANY in fighting shape, and I don't care how crappy you're feeling, 3,000 words shouldn't take more than a week to write. But it's done now and I can hopefully move on to other projects with a more reasonable chance of getting somewhere than a five volume trade paperback series with no artist attached.
The first three pages of the first HOLIDAY MEN episode are almost complete, and all I had to do to get them finished was ruin my marriage by constantly asking Tiina to make little, niggling changes. She says she doesn't mind, but I'm not sure I believe her. There were a few moments there when I wanted to punch me in the throat, I can't imagine her not feeling the same way...On the upside, the pages and lettering look amazing (in my humble opinion). I can't wait to inflic--sorry, I mean unveil this project to the world...
Another person who probably wanted to reach a few thousand kilometres across Canada and throttle me last week is John Keane, who had to deal with the same sort of nitpickery T did on the BadBoy proposal, which is now done and off to the people who can hopefully do something with it faster than we could on our own.
This week, I've absolutely got to get the SOULMAKER pitch polished for The Pack, and send The Future of Comics (I) Fiona Staples some feedback on the story for what may well be the first major comic work she writes as well as draws. Reading the story was more than a little depressing, as I quickly realized a) she doesn't really need me, in an capacity, and b) she's got more quirky, cool visual ideas in her pinky finger than I will ever have in my entire life. Why she hasn't been picked up by a major company already will always mystify me. (Well, not really, but the shortsightedness of NOT signing her up for something major baffles me.)
Also, a couple blog posts, including, when I'm able to think of it without bursting into tears, a description of my weekend journey through Hell (AKA The Shoe Company).
Good night.
I mean afternoon. Ehhhh....so it's going to be one of THOSE days...
Foley
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